


The Seven Deadly Sins of Ava Sharpe

by Lysippe



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: F/F, Gen, but idgaf, here have a weird lil character study thing that sounded fun to me, no one asked for this and probably no one wants it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-08 23:49:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15254766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lysippe/pseuds/Lysippe
Summary: Ava has spent years learning to do this. Years of grinding her face into books on history and theoretical physics and management because everyone knows that Ava Sharpe has her eye on the Director’s job. And those years are, at long, long last, beginning to pay off for her.She isn’t about to pretend that she finds herself unworthy.





	1. Pride

**Author's Note:**

> Full disclosure, I have no idea if this is actually going anywhere. It just looked fun, and I like the concept as applied to Ava. Don't expect much by way of cohesiveness here, just a lot of Ava being Ava. She's a really fun character to write, as it turns out, so I'll probably keep up with this, at least inconsistently. 
> 
> (Also, I am thebestdressedrebelinhistory on Tumblr, so hit me up.)

** pride **

_noun_

  1. a feeling or deep pleasure or satisfaction derived from one's own achievements, the achievements of those with whom one is closely associated, or from qualities or possessions that are widely admired.




———

The first time Ava successfully leads her team in fixing an anachronism, she feels the sort of thrill she imagines people feel when they jump out of an airplane, or off a cliff. It’s terrifying (what if she did something _wrong_ ? What if there are residual issues that she didn’t account for, or something got left behind, or…), but it’s also exhilarating and addicting and just so _satisfying_ . And it was only a level one, sure, and there were hundreds, maybe thousands more that would undoubtedly be more difficult, more complicated, more dangerous. But Ava has spent _years_ learning to do this. Years of grinding her face into books on history and theoretical physics and management because _everyone knows_ that Ava Sharpe has her eye on the Director’s job. And those years are, at long, long last, beginning to pay off for her.

And she sees nothing wrong with that. Why should she hide her ambitions, or her pride in her accomplishments? She’s worked hard to get where she is. She’s spent more nights in the library, more hours in the practice simulators, more time learning the ins and outs of _every single thing_ she could possibly expect to encounter. She knows it. Her fellow agents know it. Even Director Hunter, she’s pretty sure, knows it. Ava has put in the work, and then some. She isn’t about to pretend that she finds herself unworthy.

And of course Ava knows that this has bred some distaste for her, both personal and professional. She would have to be both blind and deaf to miss the resentful stares, the snide comments when people think she is out of earshot. But Ava isn’t here to make friends, and she isn’t here to be another nameless, low-ranking agent who’s just in it because Director Hunter made the Time Bureau sound more fun than the FBI. She’s here to be the best, and she knows that she can be.

And even today, on the heels of her greatest professional success to date, with her team celebrating around her and Gary tugging at her sleeve like a literal child to tell her to _come on, come have fun, we did it!_ , Ava knows that this isn’t actually a cause for celebration. Not really. This was a test. Her first of many, she’s sure. And she and her team have passed with what she is confident are flying colors. (And they are _her_ team – she hand-picked each of them with exhaustive effort based on a spreadsheet of strengths and weaknesses that had made Director Hunter go cross-eyed.) Time is still broken, and there are bigger, more challenging anachronisms waiting for them, that Ava is literally _itching_ to take a shot at.

But for tonight, she lets that go. She turns that side of herself off as best she can, and gives Gary a thin smile. He is the only person to consistently tolerate her, and he did a remarkably (and unexpectedly, if she’s being honest) good job on the mission today. The least she can do is follow him to the snack table and watch him stuff his face with potato chips.

After all, what’s the harm in taking pride in her work?


	2. Envy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi I suck at updating things and also am in the middle of buying/fixing up/moving into my new house so like, this was probably a BAD time to start a new fic anyway. I'm literally writing this at the public desk at work and like a dumbass, I wrote one of the later chapters before this one because I forgot that it wasn't the next chapter, since I decided to take these chronologically, so then I had to write this one to make up for it and I'm a fucking mess.
> 
> As always, I am thebestdressedrebelinhistory on Tumblr, so hit me up, I need to follow more Avalance shippers.

** envy **

_noun_

  1. a feeling of discontented or resentful longing aroused by someone else's possessions, qualities, or luck.




 

It’s not that Ava isn’t enjoying herself. It’s just that sitting here, in this restaurant that is _much_ nicer than she would ever have chosen, in this dress that is far too much a _dress_ for her preference, across from Sara in _that_ dress that is just absolutely perfect, as everything she wears is absolutely perfect, makes Ava feel… unsettled.

It makes her keenly aware of every part of herself that she has ever not liked. Every insecurity, every bit of deeply-held dislike for the various components that make up _Ava Sharpe_ . And for fuck’s sake, she hasn’t been this bad since she was a teenager, freakishly tall even then, hating both her awkward, gangly limbs, and the accompanying remarks about how boys didn’t like girls who were taller than they were (it’s always been a blessing, then, that Ava doesn’t like them, either). And she is a _fully fucking grown_ woman, long past the point in her life where she lets her insecurities have dominion over her. But she also can’t help it.

And it’s not like she isn’t aware of it or anything, because Ava knows exactly what she’s doing when she slouches down in her chair to avoid drawing attention to her height, or lets her hair spill over her face to muffle the sound of her painfully awkward laugh. And she isn’t a fidgety, anxious person anymore (she broke herself of those habits years ago), but she can’t _stop_ fiddling with her hair, her dress, the tablecloth, anything she can get her hands on.

And of course, Sara is Sara, is _Captain Sara Lance_ , and she’s perfectly comfortable and beautiful and confident in every situation, always.

It makes Ava feel completely, utterly outclassed.

Which, maybe, she is.

Because while Ava doesn’t fancy herself a particularly insecure person, she is fully aware that she is not the sort of person who is generally considered _likable,_ or _endearing_ , or (god forbid) _girlfriend material_ . And it’s not like she really tries to be, either, to be fair. She is, for the most part, (almost) completely comfortable with the person she is. She’s had enough experience with people trying to tell her not to be that person, that she’s become very good at saying _no_.

But that doesn’t mean that she doesn’t wish, sometimes, in moments like these, that she wasn’t less like herself, and more like someone else.


	3. Lust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So if you want to know what awkward feels like, it's working on this chapter while working at the teen desk at work. Because every time someone walked behind me I hurriedly changed tabs so they didn't see even though this is a fairly G-rated chapter. I'm also proud of me for actually getting it done though because EVERYTHING in the world was conspiring against me today, from friends visiting me at the desk, to needing to work on my fic with iliveinfantasylive (shout-out, she's awesome, go check her stuff out!), to generally being tired and unmotivated.
> 
> As always, I am thebestdressedrebelinhistory on Tumblr, so hit me up, I want new friends.

  **lust**

_noun_  

  1. very strong sexual desire.




 

Ava is _not_ in love with Sara Lance. In lust, maybe. _Maybe_. And she would apparently be in company with the rest of the known universe if she were, so it’s not like anyone could really judge her for that, anyway.

And okay, they had one nice (really nice, until Sara bailed on her) date, where Sara was charming and funny and only a little infuriating, and Ava only embarrassed herself a little bit, and she would like to file a formal request with the universe to never allow Sara to wear a red dress ever again because really, that’s just unfair, and Ava has always had entirely too much of a soft spot for beautiful women to begin with, and…

She is definitely, _definitely_ in lust with Sara Lance.

But really, who isn’t, at least a little? Sara has the sort of gravitational pull that seems to suck people into her orbit and keep them there. And under normal circumstances Ava would readily attribute it to her aforementioned weakness, but Sara is the woman somehow managed to charm two queens and half the population of Salem, Massachusetts, so honestly she feels like this one isn’t entirely on her.

And the thing that really kills Ava, the thing that rubs salt right in that particular wound, is that she knows that it’s just _Sara_ . There’s nothing mystical or divine there; nothing to explain Sara, or Ava’s reaction to Sara, much less _everyone fucking else’s_ reactions to Sara.

And it’s not like Ava is unaware of all of the objective reasons. (Because she is aware of _all_ of them.) She has _eyes_ , and she sees the same thing everyone else does. The same blonde hair (she will _not_ call it shimmering, even though it fucking _does_ ) and eyes the color of a clear summer sky and well-muscled arms and _help_. And sure, those things are great. Really, really great. Probably a good chunk of the reason that men and women all through time and space are literally throwing themselves at her feet.

But it’s the little things that twist the knife, that push Ava far past the point of no return. Like the crow’s feet that show up when Sara laughs, and the knowledge that that laughter is a gift, a sound that most people will never hear. Or the secret, conspiratorial smiles behind the backs of their friends and coworkers; the eyebrows raised suggestively in an otherwise perfectly innocent conversation; the fingers brushing against each other in passing. And really, honestly for the love of _fuck_ , Ava is _not_ in love with Sara Lance.

Much.


	4. Wrath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The speed with which Ava has found herself falling for Sara Lance is, it seems, directly correlated to how much she absolutely hates John Constantine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol so this was going to be chapter five, and then I was moving all weekend and didn't write chapter four, so I shuffled everything around and now this is chapter four. Hopefully as we steadily unpack box mountain, I'll have more time and be less dead, and update on a more regular schedule. Maybe.
> 
> As always, leave kudos and comments because I need external validation, and visit me on Tumblr at thebestdressedrebelinhistory.

**Wrath**

_ noun _

  1. strong, stern, or fierce anger; deeply resentful indignation; ire.



 

The speed with which Ava has found herself falling for Sara Lance is, it seems, directly correlated to how much she absolutely  _ hates _ John Constantine.

And it’s a little (okay, maybe a lot) about the fact that he slept with Sara. On multiple occasions. Under various interesting-bordering-on-insane circumstances, probably in various interesting-bordering-on-insane positions, and while Ava cannot even begin to see the appeal, Sara clearly has, and still does when the mood strikes her.

And it’s also a little about that fucking  _ smirk _ , the smugness that feels like it’s oozing out from him as he toys with Gary, toys with Sara, toys with  _ her _ . (Admittedly, Sara toys back, which is another thing she hates. And she knows she should probably be angrier about Gary, who is her best-and-sort-of-only friend, and actually as gullible and innocent and naïve as he comes across, and who is less than no match for anyone paying him any kind of attention, much less John  _ fucking  _ Constantine.)

But it’s also a lot about the way Sara is when he’s there - not like  _ her  _ Sara (not that Sara is actually  _ hers _ , but  _ that _ Sara definitely is not her Sara). The Sara when Constantine is around is harder, darker, sadder. Like he pulls all the messy broken bits from inside her and puts them front and center, so it’s impossible to see anything else. Like he strips away everything that Ava loves about Sara and leaves behind exactly what he sees:  _ damaged _ .

And of course she hates that about him. Because when Ava insists that  _ She’s not damaged _ , and she can actually see the condescension in his gaze, she isn’t actually saying that she disagrees. She isn’t so delusional as to not know that someone cannot possibly live through everything Sara has and  _ not  _ be damaged. What she’s saying, is  _ how dare you reduce Sara to that? What gives you any right to define her, to tell her story with one word, as though that’s everything you need to know?  What makes  _ your  _ Sara any more valid than mine, and what makes you think that you even get to  _ have  _ a Sara in the first place? _

It makes Ava want to break his nose.

Or her maybe his overly-white teeth.

Or maybe just his ego.


End file.
